Battle for Vince's Soul
by TheThirdDukes
Summary: All the chapters will be in one.
1. The Assignment

**Chapter 1**  
**Backstory: The Assignment**

Sunday, August 03, 2003, 10:55 PM.  
Burke, VA

I was at the Exxon gas station near Rolling Road -- not 5 miles from home. As I got out of my car, I nonchalantly turned off the radio. I had heard enough about how John Lee Malvo, aka the "Beltway Sniper", had escaped from prison that weekend and that FBI agents were asking everyone to be vigilant. Everyone knew what to look for. _Besides, how much could you do with a bright orange jumpsuit? Kinda ruined the stealth, you know? _

I went to the pump and selected unleaded. I saw the light of the station reflect off my white T-shirt. Washington was always so damn hot in the summer. Sometimes, I kinda wanted to know when the relief was coming. But with fall would come a return to college. _Ugh. I just couldn't win. _

I woke up in my bed, in a cold sweat. I had no idea I was dreaming... I certainly seemed awake. Maybe a few minutes of walking around the room would clear my head.

I got out of bed, seeing myself wearing the shorts, socks, and shoes of my dream. Now, I know that crashing in what I had on wasn't unusual, but I usually took my shoes off at the very least. This I honestly couldn't explain. _Did I go drinking last night? And why didn't I hear any noises? _

_Wait a second, what time is it?_ I thought. I looked back over my shoulder to where my clock radio would be. It wasn't there. In fact, my nightstand wasn't there. Nor was my dresser. Heck, my ROOM wasn't there. _Maybe I'm still dreaming,_ I thought. _Yeah, that's it. I'm still dreaming. But why would I jump from pumping gas to being in my bed in a strange... blank... white... room... _

"Hello? Is anyone there?"

Nothing.

"Am I alone? Can anyone hear me?"

Suddenly, a bright light glared to the left of me. I turned away instinctively, although my instinct also said that, once I got used to the light difference, I wouldn't see anything bad on the other side of the light. I waited a minute or two for my pupils to adjust. While I waited, though, I heard a voice...

"Andrew Goss... Be not afraid... Come forward..."

_Strange, I'd never heard anyone with that voice before._ It was fatherly... but it wasn't my father's voice. I stood up instinctively, stepping onto the floor and walking in the direction of the voice. My eyes had finally adjusted.

A man in a grey tunic stood in front of me. His hair was white, with a full beard and mustache also white. In his left hand was a book, and in his right was a keychain with giant keys on it. It was an image I had conjured up before, but why it would come to me in a dream was beyond me. Then I looked past the figure and saw a gate, 50 feet high, in the background. My eyes returned to the man in front of me, transfixed.

"Do you know where you are, Mr. Goss?"

"Sure I do. I'm in a dream. A very bizarre dream. Somehow, my mind has pieced together my car, my bed, and a man with a book. Is this something Freudian?"

"I'm afraid this is no dream, my child. This is all too real. Do you know who I am?"

_This is real? I've got an old man in a robe in my bedroom? Wait, I'm not in my bedroom! How'd they move my bed up here? Come on, Andy, think, THINK! Where have you seen this man before? _

"You know, you look a little like the images of St. Peter in my school chapel. It would explain the book -- with the names of the Good and the Evil -- and it would explain the chain -- those are the keys to that gate there, and beyond the gate is Heaven. But for me to be seeing you would require my death. As you can see, I'm very much alive."

"You are right about who I am. But the rest shows you have much to learn. Look at yourself."

I looked down at what I was wearing. It was the same white T-shirt I had on at the gas station -- at least, it was a white T-shirt. Now it was splattered with hues of pink, red, and brown. I put my hand on one of the brown stains that hadn't dried yet. It was motor fluid. _But when did my shirt get like this? _

I put my hand to my head as I thought. As I pushed my hair back, my index finger began to poke inward. Instantly, all my attention was on that. I moved my finger inward and outward. It could pass through where my forehead should have been. It was like I had a hole in my head.

_Wait a minute. The motor fluid... the pink and red... the hole... _

"Shit. I'm dead."

"Please. There's no need to be coarse. Yes, my child, you have passed on. The man you heard about, John Malvo, made you his next victim. Soon you will be known throughout the region. But this will be of little concern to you unless you wish to be there."

"Be there? But... St. Peter, sir... I can't go back. I've paid my time on earth. I'm due for my reward -- whichever it is."

"A common misconception, Mr. Goss. You see, the Lord measures out each man's time on earth to influence the events around him. No man outlives his time, but some do not reach the limit in their assigned body. You are one of those. According to my Book, you are due for judgment at the age of 73 years after birth."

I did quick mathematics in my head. "So I have 50 years of being stuck in limbo?"

"Not in limbo." His smile re-assured me that, whatever was to happen next, I would be in good hands. "You see, those who are not due for judgment, but who are not alive on Earth, are destined to wander the earth as the internal guardians of the living. They will spend time controlling their moves, speech, and thoughts -- within a certain degree. Their mission is to save the souls of others who are on a path of personal Destruction."

I had to think about what was said. _Now I knew I had to be dreaming, right? I mean, that made almost too much sense. But I was taught that there would be no reincarnation._ I thought if I waited him out I'd wake up. Or, at the very least, he'd tell me this was a test and give me judgment.

"Okay, sir," I finally said. "Assuming for the moment that all this is true -- and I'm not sure what to believe any more -- who have you assigned me to?"

"In what sense? Who you will be, or whom you will save?"

"Save. Let's start there."

"I thought you would. I chose someone for you that I think you'd take a personal interest in." _A personal interest? Me? I couldn't think of what it could be. Would I be helping out my parents, my teacher, my classmates? How about an old crush I had? Maybe I was to save Malvo himself. Now that would be weird._

St. Peter walked to a podium in front of the gate. He pulled out a giant box with files so dense I couldn't tell where one ended and the next began. Something occurred to me all of a sudden as he was going through this. _If this is the St. Peter, and this is the gate to heaven, where is everybody? _

"Um, sir... why is it just us?"

"You mean, where are all the newly departed? Well, most of them have lived their natural life. Those don't report to me, despite what you've been told. They are placed in front of the tribunal over there."

I turned to my left. A line longer than I could count of older people was snaking around the background. Each person, one at a time, stood in front of a bench. Behind it stood eleven men, dressed much like St. Peter, who reviewed folder after folder of information and debated the cases. I assumed they were the Apostles.

"Here we are. I think this reclamation will be perfect for you."

I examined the picture on the front of the folder. There was no mistaking the visage. His gray-black hair, his cocky smile, those ears and eyes that had seen one battle too many -- this man was familiar to me indeed. No wonder St. Peter gave him to me.

"Do you know him, Mr. Goss?"

"Of course I do. This is Vincent Kennedy McMahon, a 60-year-old entrepreneur and self-made millionaire. His company, World Wrestling Entertainment, is a global industry and has become synonymous with professional wrestling in the United States. He's a household name."

"He's also a lost soul. We have 6 other people working on his case -- 4 like you, and 2 intermediaries. The intermediaries have been told to expect you."

"But... how will they know who I am? How will I know who they or any of my co-workers are?"

"We've planned for this. The intermediaries will explain further. The question is, do you accept the challenge?"

This is where I was expecting to wake up. When I paused for a full minute and nothing happened, it finally set in -- _maybe I was dead. Maybe this is St. Peter. And maybe I should say yes and avoid going to hell. _

"I'm in."

"Very well. When you wake up tomorrow morning, you will not be yourself. You will be -- and no matter who you become, you will always be -- "

"Wait wait wait... no matter who I become... does that mean I change people?"

"Yes. The intermediary will explain. As I was saying, you will always be a member of the World Wrestling Entertainment community. It is our plan to reclaim Vince by having those next to him help him see the error of his ways."

_This is heavy stuff,_ I thought. I looked back at my bed -- but it wasn't there anymore. I was at the point of no return. _Take a good look, Andy. You won't be yourself for quite some time. _

"Are you ready?"

"I guess so, but... um..."

"Oh, right, of course. Your wound. Allow me."

St. Peter leaned forward and placed a key from his keychain on the site where the fateful bullet exited my skull. I felt an intense pressure on my head, as though it would implode from the force of the touch. After ten of the longest seconds I have ever experienced, he pulled the key away.

"Now you are ready, my son."

I barely had time to feel my forehead. He fixed it, all right -- my whole body felt as it had at the gas station. The whole area went white, a kind of blank I wasn't used to. I felt myself being whisked through a nothing -- not even the nothing directly associated with space. I couldn't even feel my body.

_Then again,_ I told myself, _maybe I don't have a body to feel. _

The white blinked out and became black. As it did, a slow crescendo built. A sound, repetitive, staccato. It sounded almost like an alarm.

I woke up in bed with a start. The alarm was coming from my right. I jerked my head over there. It was just a clock radio... but not the one I was used to. Besides, that was on my left, not my right.

I turned it off and got out of bed. I noticed a second bed next to me with a figure lying in it that I could not identify. I looked down and saw I was dressed in a WWE shirt with American flag motif -- one which I never remember getting off of the ShopZone. I also had on shorts that came to my knees -- longer than I'd ever worn. _It was definitely an upgrade from the "blood-soaked" T-shirt. But where was I?_

I looked around. _Oh, of course, this is a hotel room. Whew. But wait -- that wasn't Dad or my sister in the other bed. That much I know. And I don't remember having been on vacation. So if that gas station and St. Peter business was a dream, why was I having amnesia? I need some water._

I grabbed one of the glasses off of the dresser. I heard a snort from the other bed. I quickly turned around -- and my neck twinged. _I must've slept on it wrong,_ I thought. But no, this almost seemed like limited mobility. Like I was recovering from an injury.

Undaunted, I walked into the bathroom. I didn't want to disturb my roommate any further, so I closed the door completely with my left hand. _Wait a second... why did I have my left hand free and my right hand occupied with a glass? I'm a lefty! Whatever. Things are just weird this morning. I'm on a vacation I don't remember taking. I had a dream that left me dead. I have a roommate I don't recognize. And I'm about to flip on the light, because it's really dark in this bathroom. _

"AAAAACK!"

My shout must have been heard elsewhere, and even if it hadn't been, the glass shattering on the floor definitely was. What startled me was the sight of someone in the mirror above the sink staring back at me. It was my height and weight, all right, but that's where the similarities ended. He had long blond hair. I had regular brown hair. He had perfect teeth. Mine were too small. He had a necklace of some sort. I never wore jewelry. On his hand was a wedding band. I was single. But more than that, the face I saw confirmed to me that I wasn't dreaming, that I was dead, and that I had been assigned to save Vince's soul.

The door opened behind me, and a shorter man entered the room. Actually, to be more precise, he was much shorter -- by nearly a foot. His Hispanic skin stood out in contrast to my pale white color. His eyes, a bright blue, stared at me in a look of concern. He spoke, but it was an American voice.

"Adam! Adam! Are you all right?"

_Quick, regain your bearings, Andy. I'm guessing telling him the story wouldn't do you a damn bit of good right now._

"Yeah, thanks, Rey. I just banged my neck on this here" -- I quickly pointed to the towel rack, which was situated just right -- "and the shock caused me to drop my glass. You wouldn't think someone like me would be so clumsy, eh?"

_Eh? Did I really just say that?_

"Don't worry bout it, Adam. It's all right. Just watch your step. Man, I thought you were hurt real bad. Man, just take it easy. And don't forget your brace."

"Right. Thanks, Rey."

_It was true. Everything was true._ Today I was to begin the long, slow process of reclaiming the soul of the man who provided the best entertainment for me.

And I was going to start today, this week, as Edge.


	2. The Team

********

Disclaimer

I do not own any of the trademarks in this story, all names etc are copyright of WWE.

**Chapter 1**  
**Backstory: The Assignment**

Sunday, August 03, 2003, 10:55 PM.  
Burke, VA

I was at the Exxon gas station near Rolling Road -- not 5 miles from home. As I got out of my car, I nonchalantly turned off the radio. I had heard enough about how John Lee Malvo, aka the "Beltway Sniper", had escaped from prison that weekend and that FBI agents were asking everyone to be vigilant. Everyone knew what to look for. _Besides, how much could you do with a bright orange jumpsuit? Kinda ruined the stealth, you know? _

I went to the pump and selected unleaded. I saw the light of the station reflect off my white T-shirt. Washington was always so damn hot in the summer. Sometimes, I kinda wanted to know when the relief was coming. But with fall would come a return to college. _Ugh. I just couldn't win. _

I woke up in my bed, in a cold sweat. I had no idea I was dreaming... I certainly seemed awake. Maybe a few minutes of walking around the room would clear my head.

I got out of bed, seeing myself wearing the shorts, socks, and shoes of my dream. Now, I know that crashing in what I had on wasn't unusual, but I usually took my shoes off at the very least. This I honestly couldn't explain. _Did I go drinking last night? And why didn't I hear any noises? _

_Wait a second, what time is it?_ I thought. I looked back over my shoulder to where my clock radio would be. It wasn't there. In fact, my nightstand wasn't there. Nor was my dresser. Heck, my ROOM wasn't there. _Maybe I'm still dreaming,_ I thought. _Yeah, that's it. I'm still dreaming. But why would I jump from pumping gas to being in my bed in a strange... blank... white... room... _

"Hello? Is anyone there?"

Nothing.

"Am I alone? Can anyone hear me?"

Suddenly, a bright light glared to the left of me. I turned away instinctively, although my instinct also said that, once I got used to the light difference, I wouldn't see anything bad on the other side of the light. I waited a minute or two for my pupils to adjust. While I waited, though, I heard a voice...

"Andrew Goss... Be not afraid... Come forward..."

_Strange, I'd never heard anyone with that voice before._ It was fatherly... but it wasn't my father's voice. I stood up instinctively, stepping onto the floor and walking in the direction of the voice. My eyes had finally adjusted.

A man in a grey tunic stood in front of me. His hair was white, with a full beard and mustache also white. In his left hand was a book, and in his right was a keychain with giant keys on it. It was an image I had conjured up before, but why it would come to me in a dream was beyond me. Then I looked past the figure and saw a gate, 50 feet high, in the background. My eyes returned to the man in front of me, transfixed.

"Do you know where you are, Mr. Goss?"

"Sure I do. I'm in a dream. A very bizarre dream. Somehow, my mind has pieced together my car, my bed, and a man with a book. Is this something Freudian?"

"I'm afraid this is no dream, my child. This is all too real. Do you know who I am?"

_This is real? I've got an old man in a robe in my bedroom? Wait, I'm not in my bedroom! How'd they move my bed up here? Come on, Andy, think, THINK! Where have you seen this man before? _

"You know, you look a little like the images of St. Peter in my school chapel. It would explain the book -- with the names of the Good and the Evil -- and it would explain the chain -- those are the keys to that gate there, and beyond the gate is Heaven. But for me to be seeing you would require my death. As you can see, I'm very much alive."

"You are right about who I am. But the rest shows you have much to learn. Look at yourself."

I looked down at what I was wearing. It was the same white T-shirt I had on at the gas station -- at least, it was a white T-shirt. Now it was splattered with hues of pink, red, and brown. I put my hand on one of the brown stains that hadn't dried yet. It was motor fluid. _But when did my shirt get like this? _

I put my hand to my head as I thought. As I pushed my hair back, my index finger began to poke inward. Instantly, all my attention was on that. I moved my finger inward and outward. It could pass through where my forehead should have been. It was like I had a hole in my head.

_Wait a minute. The motor fluid... the pink and red... the hole... _

"Shit. I'm dead."

"Please. There's no need to be coarse. Yes, my child, you have passed on. The man you heard about, John Malvo, made you his next victim. Soon you will be known throughout the region. But this will be of little concern to you unless you wish to be there."

"Be there? But... St. Peter, sir... I can't go back. I've paid my time on earth. I'm due for my reward -- whichever it is."

"A common misconception, Mr. Goss. You see, the Lord measures out each man's time on earth to influence the events around him. No man outlives his time, but some do not reach the limit in their assigned body. You are one of those. According to my Book, you are due for judgment at the age of 73 years after birth."

I did quick mathematics in my head. "So I have 50 years of being stuck in limbo?"

"Not in limbo." His smile re-assured me that, whatever was to happen next, I would be in good hands. "You see, those who are not due for judgment, but who are not alive on Earth, are destined to wander the earth as the internal guardians of the living. They will spend time controlling their moves, speech, and thoughts -- within a certain degree. Their mission is to save the souls of others who are on a path of personal Destruction."

I had to think about what was said. _Now I knew I had to be dreaming, right? I mean, that made almost too much sense. But I was taught that there would be no reincarnation._ I thought if I waited him out I'd wake up. Or, at the very least, he'd tell me this was a test and give me judgment.

"Okay, sir," I finally said. "Assuming for the moment that all this is true -- and I'm not sure what to believe any more -- who have you assigned me to?"

"In what sense? Who you will be, or whom you will save?"

"Save. Let's start there."

"I thought you would. I chose someone for you that I think you'd take a personal interest in." _A personal interest? Me? I couldn't think of what it could be. Would I be helping out my parents, my teacher, my classmates? How about an old crush I had? Maybe I was to save Malvo himself. Now that would be weird._

St. Peter walked to a podium in front of the gate. He pulled out a giant box with files so dense I couldn't tell where one ended and the next began. Something occurred to me all of a sudden as he was going through this. _If this is the St. Peter, and this is the gate to heaven, where is everybody? _

"Um, sir... why is it just us?"

"You mean, where are all the newly departed? Well, most of them have lived their natural life. Those don't report to me, despite what you've been told. They are placed in front of the tribunal over there."

I turned to my left. A line longer than I could count of older people was snaking around the background. Each person, one at a time, stood in front of a bench. Behind it stood eleven men, dressed much like St. Peter, who reviewed folder after folder of information and debated the cases. I assumed they were the Apostles.

"Here we are. I think this reclamation will be perfect for you."

I examined the picture on the front of the folder. There was no mistaking the visage. His gray-black hair, his cocky smile, those ears and eyes that had seen one battle too many -- this man was familiar to me indeed. No wonder St. Peter gave him to me.

"Do you know him, Mr. Goss?"

"Of course I do. This is Vincent Kennedy McMahon, a 60-year-old entrepreneur and self-made millionaire. His company, World Wrestling Entertainment, is a global industry and has become synonymous with professional wrestling in the United States. He's a household name."

"He's also a lost soul. We have 6 other people working on his case -- 4 like you, and 2 intermediaries. The intermediaries have been told to expect you."

"But... how will they know who I am? How will I know who they or any of my co-workers are?"

"We've planned for this. The intermediaries will explain further. The question is, do you accept the challenge?"

This is where I was expecting to wake up. When I paused for a full minute and nothing happened, it finally set in -- _maybe I was dead. Maybe this is St. Peter. And maybe I should say yes and avoid going to hell. _

"I'm in."

"Very well. When you wake up tomorrow morning, you will not be yourself. You will be -- and no matter who you become, you will always be -- "

"Wait wait wait... no matter who I become... does that mean I change people?"

"Yes. The intermediary will explain. As I was saying, you will always be a member of the World Wrestling Entertainment community. It is our plan to reclaim Vince by having those next to him help him see the error of his ways."

_This is heavy stuff,_ I thought. I looked back at my bed -- but it wasn't there anymore. I was at the point of no return. _Take a good look, Andy. You won't be yourself for quite some time. _

"Are you ready?"

"I guess so, but... um..."

"Oh, right, of course. Your wound. Allow me."

St. Peter leaned forward and placed a key from his keychain on the site where the fateful bullet exited my skull. I felt an intense pressure on my head, as though it would implode from the force of the touch. After ten of the longest seconds I have ever experienced, he pulled the key away.

"Now you are ready, my son."

I barely had time to feel my forehead. He fixed it, all right -- my whole body felt as it had at the gas station. The whole area went white, a kind of blank I wasn't used to. I felt myself being whisked through a nothing -- not even the nothing directly associated with space. I couldn't even feel my body.

_Then again,_ I told myself, _maybe I don't have a body to feel. _

The white blinked out and became black. As it did, a slow crescendo built. A sound, repetitive, staccato. It sounded almost like an alarm.

I woke up in bed with a start. The alarm was coming from my right. I jerked my head over there. It was just a clock radio... but not the one I was used to. Besides, that was on my left, not my right.

I turned it off and got out of bed. I noticed a second bed next to me with a figure lying in it that I could not identify. I looked down and saw I was dressed in a WWE shirt with American flag motif -- one which I never remember getting off of the ShopZone. I also had on shorts that came to my knees -- longer than I'd ever worn. _It was definitely an upgrade from the "blood-soaked" T-shirt. But where was I?_

I looked around. _Oh, of course, this is a hotel room. Whew. But wait -- that wasn't Dad or my sister in the other bed. That much I know. And I don't remember having been on vacation. So if that gas station and St. Peter business was a dream, why was I having amnesia? I need some water._

I grabbed one of the glasses off of the dresser. I heard a snort from the other bed. I quickly turned around -- and my neck twinged. _I must've slept on it wrong,_ I thought. But no, this almost seemed like limited mobility. Like I was recovering from an injury.

Undaunted, I walked into the bathroom. I didn't want to disturb my roommate any further, so I closed the door completely with my left hand. _Wait a second... why did I have my left hand free and my right hand occupied with a glass? I'm a lefty! Whatever. Things are just weird this morning. I'm on a vacation I don't remember taking. I had a dream that left me dead. I have a roommate I don't recognize. And I'm about to flip on the light, because it's really dark in this bathroom. _

"AAAAACK!"

My shout must have been heard elsewhere, and even if it hadn't been, the glass shattering on the floor definitely was. What startled me was the sight of someone in the mirror above the sink staring back at me. It was my height and weight, all right, but that's where the similarities ended. He had long blond hair. I had regular brown hair. He had perfect teeth. Mine were too small. He had a necklace of some sort. I never wore jewelry. On his hand was a wedding band. I was single. But more than that, the face I saw confirmed to me that I wasn't dreaming, that I was dead, and that I had been assigned to save Vince's soul.

The door opened behind me, and a shorter man entered the room. Actually, to be more precise, he was much shorter -- by nearly a foot. His Hispanic skin stood out in contrast to my pale white color. His eyes, a bright blue, stared at me in a look of concern. He spoke, but it was an American voice.

"Adam! Adam! Are you all right?"

_Quick, regain your bearings, Andy. I'm guessing telling him the story wouldn't do you a damn bit of good right now._

"Yeah, thanks, Rey. I just banged my neck on this here" -- I quickly pointed to the towel rack, which was situated just right -- "and the shock caused me to drop my glass. You wouldn't think someone like me would be so clumsy, eh?"

_Eh? Did I really just say that?_

"Don't worry bout it, Adam. It's all right. Just watch your step. Man, I thought you were hurt real bad. Man, just take it easy. And don't forget your brace."

"Right. Thanks, Rey."

_It was true. Everything was true._ Today I was to begin the long, slow process of reclaiming the soul of the man who provided the best entertainment for me.

And I was going to start today, this week, as Edge.


End file.
